


Four On the Floor

by padawanjinx



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: ALL turtle crossover, Action, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Adventure, Crude, Enemies, F/M, Fighting, Mutant Reader, Not for children, Possible Romance, Possible Threesome, Possible smut, READER CHOOSES NEXT CHAPTER, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Shameless Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, craziness, maturing turtles, obnoxious turtle, pests, vulgarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanjinx/pseuds/padawanjinx
Summary: After seeing so many reader-insert stories, I thought I'd give it a try.  I started it off, but leaving it up to reviewers to let me know where they think the story should go. YOU can help decide on adventures, possible romantic interest to one (or each turtle in turn), craziness, possible chance for villains and fights (which may get Raph aroused- you can vote to decide), help Donnie with his inventions or help Mikey achieve his dream of opening a pizzeria... the possibilities are endless.





	Four On the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Continuity depends on reader involvement.
> 
> If y'all don't like it or think it's totally off the mark and boring, then don't hesitate to speak your mind. :D I support freedom of speech, even if it's constructive criticism. 
> 
> If no one has any ideas on where it should go next (baby steps, not entire epics as we're doing this 3-4 pages at a time) then I'll just scrap it. No big deal :D 
> 
> Drawing from several TMNT sources, so its not exactly one universe-centric
> 
> Note; UNedited. Literally typed out in an hour and thus uploaded. All mistakes are mine and I own up to them :D

Living in the big city isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Sure there’s everything within walking distance, but there’s also the noise, the congestion, and the horrible smells. And I’m not talking about the cultural cuisine choices. 

The stench of stagnated populace, piled one on top another, many unfamiliar with a bar of soap and tub of water. With the extensive populace came the inevitable waste, in all forms. Biological, cultural, commodities, services, and the putrefying odor of abandoned buildings used as a flop house. 

The more popular of such dens was a block away from your apartment. On any given day, when the breeze inched it’s way through the compact buildings of concrete and steel, there was no mistaking the foulness of half rotted human flesh seasoned with alcohol and recreational drug use. 

It sucked living in this part of the city, but such places were becoming more common and a lot more overwhelming. With the ever increasing criminal element, it wasn’t safe for a woman to walk alone anymore. 

But it was a necessary evil for you to return home after a long day of work. Keeping to main stream of pedestrians, you keep pace with the tallest, bulkiest male figure you can find, hoping his destination is close by your apartment building. Criminals tend to steer clear of alpha males bigger and physically more fit than themselves. 

This stranger was a welcomed camouflage. 

And what luck! He was taking the shortcut through the alley that bypassed the crackhouse and opened up to the opposite street where your apartment was waiting on the next block! 

The alley was typical for New York, with overflowing dumpsters every 25 feet, the unconscious drunk hiding under a tarp and cardboard tent, newspapers and flyers fluttering as confetti, steam rising from a grate next to a manhole cover, huge honking rats squeaking in the shadows, and darkness blacker than a panther’s butthole. 

If there were any streetlights, they had long been destroyed by vandals. 

Luck was no longer with you. The strange man stopped in the dead center of the alley, his huge outline a dangerous silhouette to the opposite side where light was filtering through, offering a margin of safety. 

He stopped. Your step faltered. Bile rose up in your throat, pulse quickening, as the huge man turned to his right, as if peering over his shoulder to see you following a few steps behind. 

Frozen into place, panic starting to rise, brain trying to lock up from the battle of flight or flight running through your veins, you gap at him, marveling at the sheer size. Perhaps it would have been wiser to risk walking past the crack heads? This behemoth was a far more dangerous threat than weak men begging for change to get their next fix. 

Taking a step back, ready to flee, you’re suddenly aware of something. Namely, some ONE. 

As in, the person who just bled out of the shadow ten feet behind you to block escape. 

Crap! It’s a set up! They’re hunting in packs now! 

Only instead of the focus being on you, as you feared, the large man had company in the form of half a dozen men, much smaller and flashing silver in their bony hands. 

The trap wasn’t necessarily laid for you, per say, but nonetheless, your luck has landed you in the middle of a robbery. 

The six closed in, metal glinting in their hands. Turning to flee and not get involved, as is typical with New Yorkers, you run into the man who crept up behind you. Arms loop your neck and middle, holding you tight to a lean, foul smelling body. 

The man whispers in your ear, “Where you going, honey? Party is just starting.” 

The noxious odor of alcohol and rotten teeth nearly make you hurl, but it’s an impossible feat, as your heart is hammering madly in your throat, preventing the ability to breathe. 

A nasty, scratchy chuckle emanates from the shadow to your left and out steps another man, as reedy and sickening as the one holding you captive. 

“Two for the price of one,” he sneers to his friend, who chuckles, placing his nose in your neck and sniffing. 

“Good trophy,” he grumbles, squeezing tighter. 

Using the force of his squeeze to add to your volume, you scream. 

He bands tighter, becoming a boa constrictor, not allowing air to return to empty lungs. The sound of your own screams echo in the alley and your head as you attempt to kick and thrash in his arms. 

But it’s useless. 

His brain is fried from substance abuse, which means he doesn’t register pain like normal people. Each impact of your foot is met with a harsh chuckle and a tighter hold. 

It’s impossible to breathe! 

But if you pass out, you may never wake up. Course, waking up to whatever hell they planned wasn’t anything to look forward to. Death would be preferable than memory of these evil men having their way with you. 

Fisting a hand, you strike backward, toward the man’s crotch. There isn’t much room to maneuver, as his hold is absolute. Knuckle bury into the sharp bone of his hip, not even phasing him. He grinds himself into your buttocks, moaning in your ear as he shallow thrusts in meaning. 

Crying, begging for him to stop, you try something else. Simultaneously drawing yourself forward, you fling your head back, connecting with his face. He releases you, allowing you to suck in air, but his friend pounces, viewing you as an empty meal to ravage while his friend recovers. 

Being half suffocated, terrified, vision blurred with tears and gulping air to scream for help, the wind is knocked out of you by the force of the man tackling you to the ground. 

The last fleeting image is the man’s toothless face inches from your own before the impact with the concrete robs your consciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> So, ball's in your court, readers. 
> 
> Shall you be rescued or do you end up lost in this trash strewn alley?
> 
> Hit that little button there and let me know....


End file.
